Something Different … back to the street.

Something Different … back to the street.

Hard to believe, but I had not seen her for nineteen years … nineteen years! Heading out of the hotel driveway toward the beach, I turned and smiled, ‘So what have you been doing the last 19 years since I last saw you?’  We chuckled and shared overviews of our lives, talking mostly about our families.  (I couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to be with her) Then she said, ‘Hey, are you still teaching Bible study?’  Again, I smiled and then told her how ministry had grown and blossomed and spread, and the various directions it has taken.  Huh, it is not very often that someone cares enough about you, especially after years of distance, that she truly wants to know your story.  But that Annie did.  

She expected to hear about women’s Bible studies, of course, but I told her about Fellowship of Christian Athletes at San Clemente High School, my role as a corporate pastor¹ for the past six years and also my work on the street in Long Beach.  Now to be honest, the street thing always catches folks off guard; I guess it appears to be incongruous with what people think I would be doing.  Leading Bible study, even writing it?  That sounds plausible, plus it is usually safe, certainly sanitary, and almost always civilized.  But driving into the hood -- a smallish 50-year-old blonde woman all by herself -- whatever for? 

Here’s how it happened:  It was in the Fall of 2009, and I knew that my friend Gary made the hour-long drive every week, usually taking a trunk full of clothes, sometimes preaching, always shaking hands, hugging and praying for someone.  I was curious, and asked if I could go along, unprepared for how it would rock my world. 

We drove round back of the Friends Church and parked in the small lot, where some homeless guys were hanging out.  Before I even got out of the car, curiosity registered on their faces about who was with Brother Gary.  By the time we got around front and went down to the large basement, there were probably already 40 to 50 people gathered.  Some were milling around, some sitting with their heads on the old round tables, others repacking their backpacks and upon closer inspection, most appeared to be homeless. 

At 9 o’clock sharp, Pastor Fred grabbed his walking stick and said, “Welcome, Brothers and Sisters!  I hope you have come to hear from da Lord,” and he rapped the table with his stick to quiet the folk.  In the next 30 minutes, the wiry, small gray-haired man preached his heart out, telling them they needed Jesus more than anything else for their sad, desperate lives.  Then the people made their way to him, waiting in line for a hug, a couple dollars, a prayer, a kind word from the man who loved them dearly, and who they loved in return. 

In my many years of Christian life, I had never seen anything like it, and I loved it.  Looking around, looking from face to face, I kept thinking, ‘This is the place where Jesus would most want to be!’  Unsettling?  Yes.  Intimidating?  Yes, but not in the usual sense of the word—I was such a soft pampered woman, and most of these folks had nothing but what was in the bags they carried with them.  It humbled me.

The next week and the week after that and the week after that, I went back.  And so began my Long Beach adventure.  Ministering to my new street friends was authentic and tremendously meaningful, and I learned so much.  It made me dig deep, rely on God, remember that I could always wash my hands and my clothes—what mattered was loving those who desperately needed it.  Reminds me of what James wrote: Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.²  

Stop and think about it – look around you.  Anyone you know who needs something you could provide?  Oh, it might mean you have to dig down deep, take a risk … but it is worth it.  Tomorrow – a tale from the hood.

Christine